


Out of Hours

by BarPurple



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: A Monthly Rumbelling, F/M, Fluff, Minor Injuries
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-25
Updated: 2018-08-01
Packaged: 2019-06-16 06:43:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,373
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15431292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BarPurple/pseuds/BarPurple
Summary: Belle’s day gets off to a dramatic start.





	1. Chapter 1

Belle was out of breath as she rushed into the library. Miss Venable peered over her glasses, her mouth in a thin line of disapproval.

“You are thirty minutes late Miss French.”

“I’m sorry about that, there was a car accident…”

Miss Venable sniffed; “You don’t drive.”

Belle bit her lip; her boss had an annoying habit of interrupting the very answer she had demanded you give her.

“No, I don’t, but I witnessed a car accident while jogging this morning, and I…”

“Were you injured in anyway?”

“No, but I had to stop…”

“Which made you late for work. You shall be docked an hour’s pay for your irresponsible attitude. Now you have work to do.”

She primly walked into the back office and left Belle gaping in shock at her back. The woman was impossible; she could rant for a solid twenty minutes about fantasy novels undermining ‘decent Christian values’ but had just docked Belle’s pay for being a good Samaritan. And she’d not bothered to ask whose car had crashed. Actually, that was probably for the best, Miss Venable considered Mr Gold to be the Devil incarnate.

 

It was a testament to Belle’s patience that she made it through the day without rising to any of Miss Venable’s passive aggressive digs at her time keeping. So far news of Mr Gold’s accident had not spread, but by tomorrow no doubt the whole town would know, and Belle would be subjected to disapproving sniffs and a laundry list of reasons she shouldn’t have assisted him. At least she had a few days off so none of it would come from Miss Venable; she’d been entertaining far too many fantasies about toppling a bookcase on that woman recently.

Storybrooke didn’t like the quiet pawnbroker, all because of some scandal that had more to do with his father than the man himself. Belle had once pondered about starting a drinking game based around how often she would hear the same tired clichés trotted out in relation to Mr Gold; ‘the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree’, ‘bad blood will out’, ‘not an honest bone in his body’. She’d kept a tally one day and decided that her liver couldn’t handle that kind of abuse.

Regardless of popular opinion Belle liked Mr Gold. He was quiet, well-read and funny in a dry way. Even if she hadn’t like him she would have stopped and helped him this morning when she saw his tire blow and his car swerved into a lamppost, because she wasn’t a heartless witch.

The Sheriff had found some scrap metal scattered on the road and suspected that had punctured the tire. Gold had been very shook up and the EMT’s were concerned about the blow to the head he’d received from the steering wheel. It had been very lucky that he’d not been going very fast. She shuddered and pushed the thought of horrors that had not happened away, that was no frame of mind to be in to visit a friend in hospital.

Armed with grapes, three western novels and a crossword book she arrived at the hospital just as visiting hours were starting. She received a raised eyebrow from the receptionist, who she recognized from the library, (child development books and everything on the summer’s must-read lists) but was directed to Mr Gold’s room without further comment.

She tapped at the open door. He turned his eyes away from the TV and Belle winced at the livid bruise on the side of his face. He gave her a lop-sided smile and tugged the open neck of the washed out green hospital gown to cover his chest. Belle dropped her eyes to the floor to give him privacy while he made himself as presentable as he could. If he was going to be staying for another night she’d offer to pick up some things from his house, no one was comfortable in hospital gowns.

“Good evening Belle.”

Taking his greeting as a sign he was ready she stepped into the room and offered him the gifts; “I thought these might save you from the horrors of…” – she glanced at the quiet TV in the corner and was surprised to see – “Spongebob?”

Gold shrugged; “It was this, some sort of hockey, or something called Love Island. Mr Squarepants I can understand.”

He muted the TV and sighed happily at the novels she had brought him; “These are much appreciated, Belle thank you.”

He looked a little surprised when she moved the armchair around, so she could sit by his bed. Belle bit her lip, perhaps he didn’t want company.

“Is it alright if I sit for a while, or do you need to rest?”

“I’d love your company Belle,” – his eyes narrowed, - “You’re not going to stick me with needles or shine a light in my eyes are you?”

She held up her hand in a poor imitation of a girl guide salute; “No medical tests from me I promise.”

“Good, I swear one of the nurses is a vampire, there’s no way she needed that much blood for tests.”

Belle sat down and smiled at him; “So how are you feeling?”

“Bit battered, needed a few stitches in my face, possible concussion and maybe a fractured hand.”

She glanced down at his bruised and bandaged right hand. From what she’d managed to work out this morning he’d trapped it in the door as he’d tried to get out of the car.

“They had to cut my ring off. Think I’m more upset about that than I am about the car. My aunties gave me that when I graduated.”

“Will you be able to repair it?”

She knew he could repair jewellery, he’d fixed the clasp on her necklace a while ago. The jewellers in town had told her it was impossible to repair and tried to sell her an ostentatious overpriced thing to replace it. As if anything could replace her mother’s necklace. Gold had been so careful with it.

“Oh aye, once Whale lets me out of here. And if my hand isn’t broken, they took an x-ray, but the swelling made it difficult to see anything.”

He held his cane in his that hand, even if it wasn’t broken getting around would be difficult for him for a while.

“Whale’s only keeping me in for observation seen as how I live alone.”

Gold fidgeted with the edge of the blanket; “Erm, I feel I owe you an apology for my behaviour this morning. I wasn’t very polite to you.”

That was putting it mildly. He’d yell at her and lashed out. Belle had recognized his actions as shock and possibly a panic attack. She’d managed to get him calmed down and to keep him still until the ambulance had arrived. He was usually so composed, seeing him in such distress had sent her heart pounding more than her morning run had.

“You’d just been in a car crash; a bit of shouting can be forgiven under the circumstances.”

He gave her a shy smile; “Thank you. It just brought back a few bad memories,” – he laughed dryly, - “At least I didn’t wreck my ankle again.”

Gold was always deeply uncomfortable talking about his injured ankle, so Belle changed the subject. They chatted about her day for a while and then started on the crosswords. Belle felt awful for bring him something that required writing; she’d know his writing hand was hurt. Gold had laughed it off and said it was better that she filled the answers in anyway since his spelling still tended towards British rather than American. They sat there happily munching on grapes and indulging in some friendly bickering about the answers.

“What are you doing here?”

They both started at the sharp voice from the doorway. A frowning nurse was standing there glaring at Belle.

“I’m visiting Mr Gold.”

The nurse bustled into the room tutting; “Visiting finished an hour ago. Mr Gold needs to rest you’ll have to leave now.”

“Looks like I’ve made you late again.”

Belle just grinned; “Not a problem. I’ll see you tomorrow okay?”

Gold smiled happily; “I’d like that. Thank you.”

The nurse began huffing impatiently, but Belle took a moment to scribble her cell number on the cover of the crossword book; “Gimme a call if you need anything.”

Gold looked like he’d been given a precious gift. “Thank you Belle.”

Finally, she allowed the nurse to hustle her out of the room, but she waved at him over her shoulder. The nurse walked with her along the corridor.

“You want to be careful. He’s a bad apple that one.”

Belle rolled her eyes. She might actually have a drink for that one once she got home.


	2. Chapter 2

Gold’s smile faded once Belle had left. Her generous company had distracted him from his location. He hated hospitals. They all smelled the same; disinfectant and despair. He couldn’t imagine anyone liked hospitals, indifference was the best most folks could muster, and he envied them. Hospitals held nothing but bad memories and terror for him. 

He tried to keep himself awake by reading one of the novels that Belle had brought for him, but the pain med and the aftermath of this morning’s shock conspired against him and he drifted into sleep.

 

Belle was tired, but not sleepy. Hospital visits always left her a little on edge. Too many memories of visiting Mama when she was sick. Thankfully Mama had responded well to the treatments and had been in remission for over a decade now. Gold would be out of hospital tomorrow, maybe the day after at the latest, there was no need to worry and fret. She knew this, but it was still hard to settle, and she caught herself glancing at her phone every few minutes, just in case it was going to ring with bad news.

In need of a distraction she switched her computer on and did a bit of window shopping on some book sites. Even the prospect of some discounted anthologies couldn’t distract her. She kept thinking about Gold, he’d said something during his panic this morning that niggled at her.

“Don’t call the police, Dad’ll be so angry.”

She’d not paid much attention at the time, but now the pure fear in his eyes troubled her. She knew the gossip about his father and the scandal that had dogged his reputation for years. It had all happened long before she had moved to town, but it was still talked about in the diner. She’d never looked for the facts before, but now she surfed over to the Daily Mirror site and clicked the archives. 

The date of the records surprised her. Gossip always put the incident at twenty years ago, but it was actually twenty-five. Gold had been nineteen, she not immediately recognized him in the grainy photo, he’d worn his hair short back then. It was a cute look on him, but she was used to his shaggier locks. It was also strange to see him referred to as Bertie because she knew he loathed his first name.

Anger welled up inside her as she read. Gold’s father, Malcom Gold, was a lifelong con man. The articles briefly mentioned his list of crimes, all of which had gone unpunished until he was arrested in Storybrooke. The paper said that the younger Gold was not considered a willing accomplice, but the wording suggested a deal of scepticism. It was eerily similar to the tone used by the townsfolk.

Malcolm Gold had been running a fake adoption scam, praying on people desperate for a child. In the past he had used his own son as the potential adoptee, but as that wasn’t going to work with a teenaged Gold, he’d branched out into kidnapping. Gold had been a part of the abduction of young Neal Cassidy, at the time only three months old, but had quickly gotten to baby to the Sheriff’s Station. The paper made him out to be a coward who had gotten cold feet, but hadn’t had the nerve to hand himself in.

At this point the article gave her details that were never mentioned in town. Just one line baldly stating that Malcolm Gold had been apprehended after shoving his son from a speeding car and crashing into a ditch. 

Belle blinked in shock. That must have been how Gold had damaged his ankle, no wonder he didn’t like to talk about it. She read the article again and wondered how it was that the town could see Gold as anything other than a victim of his father’s abuse? He’d not been charged with anything, but the Mirror had happily condemned him right along side his father. She took a quick look at the other entries for Gold and found the letters page was filled with the clichés she had become used to hearing the gossips use. With this much hostility aimed at him Belle wondered why Gold had stayed in Storybrooke at all. 

Belle closed the browser with a huff. She couldn’t change public opinion, but she was damn well going to make sure Gold knew he had a friend in her. It was after midnight, morning visiting began at eleven, she needed to get some sleep, so she could be there to see him.

 

Gold jerked awake and winced at the throbbing pain in his right hand. He’d been biting into the bandaged to muffle his screams. Even in his dreams he couldn’t shake the lessons his father had beaten into him as a child. The pain in his hand was bad, but the sick feeling roiling in his gut was from his dreams. Malcolm slapping him until he’d lifted Neal out of his crib; Milah unconscious on the floor; the pure disgust on her face afterwards; the bitter ring of her calling him a coward and walking away from him. He could normally keep all of this buried in the dark pits of his mind, but the hospital smell and the pain had thrown it all to the surface again. He cradled his bandage hand against his chest and sobbed silently in the dimly light room.


End file.
